Dagger in the Dark
by Stradavari
Summary: Garak was once asked; Which story is true? "Why my dear doctor, they're all true". Even the lies? "Especially the lies". Here is another version of events on Deep Space 9.
1. Chapter 1

Elim stepped over the phaser-charred bodies of a shop keeper and his wife.

"What a waste" he muttered, hissing with a sharp intake of breath.

Terok Nor had once been a shining citadel perched above the planet Bajor, a small but modest planet in the holdings of Cardassia. After years of cultivating its riches, the Bajoran inhabitants fighting them at every step, the government of his home world had finally ordered a withdrawal.

He waited until the pair of soldiers in the hall finished dismantling the replicator installed on the far side of the habitat ring, before stepping out of the shadows.

One of his contacts had mentioned a list to be found in one of the shops. Specifics to this list were not divulged, only its importance. In the usual way of what might have been useful information, its exact location was not included. He was running out of time. He glanced briefly at one of the station monitors on the wall as he stepped down an empty corridor. Half the power was out and backups were only functioning sporadically.

Elim ran a hand through his jet black hair. His features were typical Cardassian, from the black hair to the blue eyes that seemed pale next to his grey skin. The ridges framing his face made his expressions more intense, whether in joy or anger or surprise.

15 more minutes on this wreckage and he could complete the initial task that brought him out here, and return home. The list was only a minor secondary objective, hardly worth his attention. He did regret not being able to complete both in time, his mind warring only briefly with a distaste for leaving something undone.

"Come with me Nerys" Elim could hear the patronizing voice of Gul Dukat through the open- yet force-fielded door leading into the Gul's office.

"A woman of your beauty should not be left in rags, I will find an..appropriate place for you in my household. You do so remind me of your mother".

Dukat's leering tone set his teeth on edge. He silently cheered the Bajoran ex-slave's sarcastic retort. He despised the Gul's entire lineage and agreed with the idea that Cardassia would be better served without him. He was more then happy to volunteer for this assignment. It was almost a shame that Kira Narys was next on his list.

He heard the computer announcing an incoming message from Central Command. Dukat ordered the Bajoran out of the room. Elim watched the redhead stomp past him, fists clenching, but not seeing the Cardassian in the shadows. He counted to 5, then darted his head into the doorway long enough to catch a glimpse of the interior. Gul Dukat was leaning intently over his desk frowning at the monitor. If he stayed low, the screen would block him entirely from the Gul's vision as he slipped into the room.

"I am pleased with your report Gul Dukat, I especially like that little bit about the code you slipped into the replicators, you'll have to show me that little gem later" The voice from the screen droned.

"I'd be pleased to Legate, at your convenience of course. I should start seeing to that the last of my men depart" Dukat responded beaming with pride.

Elim fingered the nodule under the flesh of his palm, waiting for the transmission to finish.

"One last thing Dukat.."

"Yes sir?"

"Catch the dagger" The screen flashed, cutting the transmission.

Elim granted himself a full second to grinding his teeth. His vision flared white hot before he recovered himself.

"Well sir, it looks as though you have been granted a reprieve" Elim spoke brightly with false enthusiasm from behind Gul Dukat.

"YOU." Dukat snarled hiding his fear.

"What are you doing on this station?" Dukat straightened himself to full height.

"Assisting with the house cleaning, naturally". Elim spared him only a few pleasantries while the Gul blustered, off balanced, and then excused himself.

Elim reluctantly chose out quartets for himself at the bend of two meeting corridors at far point from a turbo lift. Who knew what rabble he would find moving into the station now that his own people had called it quits. Best to find a spot out of the way from where he could watch his new neighbors and perhaps maintain some semblance of piece and quiet.  
Stepping over the tripwire and into the room he grimaced. Whomever had left the bed had made him regret that they had. Still the lights functioned, which gave him hope for the showers. A piece of what had been furniture made for a testing stick. As long as nothing exploded too grandly or decompressed the compartment he would simply note and add to the sabotage with traps of his own.

Elim stood for far too long in the dim shower, rubbing the tension from his shoulders. This station would be his new home until he was able to complete the secondary objective of his assignment or until he was formally recalled.  
Humidity filled the quartets until Elim began considering the possibility of black mould.

Saving his personal settings into the shower before shutting it off, he stepped across the questionable carpet and righted the office desk. It should end be a simple enough matter reprogramming the files to indicate his rightful habitance.

A few hours of work acclimating the room's only chair, while he tapped in commands on the console, left it damp under his skin. The next order of business would be to lay claim to the previous occupants place of work. That, and find some towels. Before discarding the thought, he grinned to himself getting dressed. Wandering around the station without clothes might give his new neighbors pause before shooting him, on the other hand the first thing they were likely to do was reconfigure the life support temperature levels.

The corridors were ghost like, empty with the exception of scattered debris. Lights flickered on and off at random and an uncomfortable electrical whine followed him. Counting each door as he passed on his left he found the shop. A lucky find! The original shop keeper lay strewn across the floor amidst various bolts of cloth and sundries.

The man's clothes did not fit well. He would need to make adjustments immediately, no self-respecting tailor would be caught dead in such ill-fitting attire. Bad for business.

Caressing the settings on his sidearm, he lifted it to vaporize the body.

The shop was going to need a lot of work. Elim mused while cracking a chem light and began up-righting furniture.

Two figures passed by outside talking to themselves in Bajoran, the universal translator was still offline. Elim could still make out a semblance of their conversation nonetheless. He waited for their lights to pass before he continued perusing the contents of the establishment.

There was something about a section of paneling at the back in the storeroom that caught his eye. He set down the chem light and ran his fingers along the metal framework.


	2. Falling

The first thing to do was get the subspace communications back on-line.

There was enough power going to life support to last the remaining ex-slaves several days, until work crews arrived and began station-wide repairs. Not to mention a way off this hunk of Cardassian military junk floating in space.

Kira retied her hair into some form of order and set to work. Separating those too weak to work, and from them, those skilled at repairs; she put the unskilled in charge of caring for the majority of the Bajorans and other species left behind.

The shape shifter she was unsure what to do with. He was not a direct enemy of her people, having proven himself in her previous trip to Terok Nor. Still she found him able at moving the wounded. Trying not to be perturbed by the man asking the same sort of questions as her own, organizing the rabble, if pointedly without social grace, she appreciated his help.

She left him in charge, deciding to trust his impartiality, while she gathered several Bajorans and headed for engineering.

It was going to take hours, if not days to get the main systems back on-line. The engineering core was a mess. Most of the systems had been disassembled, sabotaged or simply ruined. Shards of glass and plastic littered the floor, wires threatened to trip or snag at their feet.

Losing a moment's concentration halfway through re-coupling one of the power relays under the workstation, Kira snapped. The wire she had been holding slipped and touched the wrong wire, sparking then fusing with the undesired wire. She slapped her palm hard against the bulkhead of wall in frustration.

"Damn those Cardassians. " She punched the wall again for good measure before getting back to work.

Odo harrumphed in annoyance as still another set of Bajorans had asked when the systems were going to be back online. As if he had any idea or ability to snap his fingers and make it so by magic. It was enough for now that they had scrounged enough blankets and cleared space on the Promenade.

Quark had been uncharacteristically generous with his food supplies, mostly Cardassian. He didn't trust that little Ferengi, and half expected it to be poisoned. The man assured him it wasn't, but reminded him to tell the Provisional Government about his aid, and demand recompense.

The little worm probably realized it was his best bet to unload his remaining stock of Cardassian goods. It was unlikely that he would have any more such patrons in the time to come. Unless the oversized rodent followed on the next transport to Cardassia.

The humanoid this compartment was designed for was a good deal slimmer then himself, possibly even more nimble. Elim considered himself a capable man, but the space with which he had to work was simply not enough. He took another small inch of space towards the end of the over-lip inside the panel, gripping carefully with his feet.

He had began to sweat the moment he forced himself into the confining space. He was unsure how far down the darkness went, perhaps through several decks.

There had been a piece of parchment attached to the far wall. He could see writing from the glow of the chem light, but could not make out any particular shape from outside the compartment. His heart had raced when he had discovered it. He may be off this ship sooner then anticipated. His skill and good fortune had led him to the very document he was searching for. At least that's what he hoped, and reminded himself as lightheadedness threatened to cause a miss-step. He forced himself to control his breathing and wiped his clammy palm against the bulkhead and took another tiny step along the ridge.

The sweat from his hands refused to allow him any purchase on the walls to guide his feet further. His next step did not hold his weight against the wall. Adrenaline surged through him, his heart threatened to stop as fear sucked the air from his lungs. Darkness swallowed him.

A gentle sense of euphoria tickled him awake hours later. Complete blackness covered everything. Perhaps he was dead? No there was something wrong with his leg. Having become aware that he still had a body sent a spike of pain washing through him along with a wave of nausea. A cloying sweetness followed as the device in his brain stimulated the pleasure centers. It was funny really. Here he was stuck at the bottom of a hole, this top secret Cardassian technology set up to prevent torture techniques from being of use on his person; now activating while he awaited rescue from those very enemies.

Elim giggled to himself as he gingerly moved his leg. He discovered he was only barely able to resettle his limbs in the space between walls. His breathing quickened as his hand fished around in his pockets for more chem lights. He had three remaining. A day and a half at most of light.

Tearing the package with his teeth he ripped it open, tapping the cylinder into his hand and then with a quick snap, cracking the activators inside to produce a sickly green glow.

He assessed his injuries, stuffing his fear into a corner of his mind for the moment. Broken leg, sprained wrist, dislocated shoulder, something wrong with his jaw. Oh and probably add a concussion to the deal. He was happy his wrist was not broken as he tried to pry himself upwards, without any real room to brace himself. The first try his wrist gave out, and he landed badly, the device in his head working overtime. He laughed until tears trickled down the corner of his face. The second try he managed to get himself upright.

Immediately feeling less suffocated as he was standing and able to turn to the side. The space was just wide enough for his width, but leaving leaving three inches of breathing space standing the other way.

Unfortunately the chem light highlighted just how close that bulkhead was to his face. He turned back towards the darkness, trying to abolish the panicky feeling that both shoulders rubbing against the wall gave him.

He held the light in his bad hand, and steadied himself with the other, limping along the narrow strip. 21 paces measured his pocket universe.

He held the light up to see how far up he could see, and how far he had fallen. Surprisingly it was only a deck and a half, he'd expected a much farther fall for his injuries. Perhaps the small space left it impossible for him to land anything but badly. He could just make out a dim greyness that was the opening to the darkened shop above. He could also now see the note plastered to the wall above.

It was in Cardassian. A small simple note indicating that the stembolts should be replaced every 7 years. It was a manufacture's warranty inside this lamentable pit! He would track down the man who had left it in such an impossible place to read and have him shot.

Elim slumped down the wall and began to laugh. He laughed until the sound of it howled off the walls and as the effects of the implant began to wear off. he began to scream.


	3. Effectiveness

Three days into the repairs and Kira began to wish the Cardassians would come back just so she could get her hands on them. She was sick of their food, sick of their smell, and sick of their damned sabotage.

They had gotten through to the Provisional Government on Bajor the night before. They had apparently been discussing gaining admittance into the Federation. She had called them several kinds of fool, and then once the transmission was over, called herself nine kinds of fool for agreeing to stay on the station to work with them.

The first ships ready to unload the refugees would arrive at any time, along with a small work crew to get her started. She just prayed someone thought to bring replicator patterns with some real food along. She might kiss them if they did.

She ran into Odo as she headed for her quarters. They weren't much but they were hers now, and all she wanted was a hot bath and some rack time.

"Constable, thank you again for all your help over the past few days. I don't think I could have done it without you" She said tiredly.

"Hardly Major, it was just something that needed doing. You would have done well enough without me" he responded, uncomfortable with the praise.

"Not and get any sleep. You know, you should stay on. We're going to need security. I've already given my full report to the Provisional Government and they agree" she continued.

"I shall consider your offer. You should get some sleep".

Kira agreed and hurried on before some other emergency popped up demanding her attention.

"Help." It was a whisper.

Elim was severely dehydrated and his throat raw.

He could barely move in the darkness. He had lost his sense of time. By the time he realized there was now light coming in from the shop upstairs he had no idea how long it had been so.

"Help!" He managed a bit more loudly.

He bit the side of his cheek. He drank in the wetness of the blood fighting the nausea that accompanied it to moisten his throat. He shouted in earnest, choking occasionally on the blood and fear.

Bright lights settled over him. He was unable to stand, not even to relieve himself on the other side of the crawlspace. 21 paces wasn't much to separate himself from the smell anyways. He could hear voices, blacking out again.

"Get a security team over here now and some rope. Someone go wake up Major Kira, she will want to see this" Odo barked orders, backing his head out from the wall. He could get down there easily enough, but was unsure on being able to maneuver the Cardassian back up regardless of what form he chose to take.

Odo waited until someone had thrown enough rope down, with a light and some basic medical supplies, before slipping over the side of the edge.

He'd learned enough about fractured ribs over the past few days that it was no trouble pressing his hands over the Cardassian body. Even with the dissimilar form, a humanoid was a humanoid. It would be well enough to move, and more dire if he did not. From the state of him, Odo was almost grateful his nose was only a shape and had no sense of smell.

Suspicions he put to the side as he helped the crew above lift him. He did not trust him, but it seemed unlikely that he could cause any trouble in the state he was in.

Once above, one of the Bajoran males probed along the Cardassians leg, identifying the break and set about getting ready to re-set it. Odo leaned over him with a bottle of water, propping him up enough to drink.

"What is a Cardassian still doing on board?" Odo asked tersely while the man drank.

"let us just say that I had annoyed the captain of the vessel I was assigned to depart on. He suggested most unkindly that I wait for the next ship. His was the last ship". Garak spoke swiftly and motioned for more water.

"And what were you doing at the bottom of that hole then?"

"You see Constable, I had witnessed a terrible display from across the way at my neighboring shop, of Bajorans aggressively dismantling an ex-Cardassian shop " Elim took a breath then another drink before continuing.

"I felt it was best that I hide. And so I did. It was an effective spot, but more effective then I anticipated".

Odo wanted to press the man further, however Kira shook her head. She had arrived sometime in the beginning of the conversation.

"Take him to the infirmary. I'll have some more questions for him later" Kira dismissed two security guards with a litter.

"I trust I'll have your co-operation in this matter Constable?" Kira asked, even though from her tone he could tell it wasn't a question.

"Of course Major. I, too, want to know what he is doing aboard".

It was many hours later before Elim woke again. His head was fuzzy between the narcotics the nurses had plied him with, and the natural agents his body had released by means of the device. The drugs unfortunately were wearing off.

His body had been washed, he had no idea what happened to his clothes, but he hoped they had been burned.

"He's waking up Major" One of the orderlies reported.

The Bajoran face framed by red hair hovered by his own. She inquired to how he was feeling.

"The drugs are unfortunately wearing off Major, thank you for stopping by, I'd get up but.." Elim managed weakly.

"Are they now?" Kira asked unsubtly letting him know by her posture and face that she had anticipated as much.

"Perhaps I could find some more, but I first I have a few questions. Like who you are, and why are you really on this station?"

"Anything for my kind and benevolent rescuers, Major. I am Garak, a simple tailor. As I told the Constable before, I had a disagreement with my ships captain and I was left behind. I will be on the next ship bound for Cardassia and be out of your way". Elim could feel the last effects of the drug granted only mind numbness, they did nothing for the pain. The device in his head however he knew would kick in shortly. No need to tip his hand though.

"I find your answers doubtful Mr Garak. You see I asked around the station. Most of the refugees had already left, but of those that remained, no one remembers seeing you before. Including Constable Odo" Kira purred into his ear enjoying his discomfort.

"Shall we try this again?"

"Of course no one remembers me, I'd just gotten here a week ago and took over my nephews shop. Perhaps you should ask Odo if he remembers him?" Elim began to describe the shops' previous occupant.

"Now if you could kindly continue medical assistance, while you corroborate my story I'd appreciate it".

"Not until I check out your story I think" Kira stepped back with a touch of a smile.

"So it's to be torture. Doesn't even matter to you that I am a civilian who has done no harm" Garak pretended to set his face and steel himself even as the transmitter in his skull produced a slow wash of pleasure tingling down his spine.

"We shall see" Kira turned and left.


	4. Blind Leading the Blind

** apparently people like warnings when they're about to read things that might be triggers or whatever. Spoilers- boy on boy action suggested in this chapter also: non-consensual**

"I don't like it either Odo, but what choice do we have? I mean, he's a Cardassian. I'm too tired to even begin to be creative enough to think up ways to break him. You saw the way he was like down there. It's the only thing I can think of to be sure. I mean REALLY sure" Narys paced and rubbed her temples down the corridor from the Infirmary.

"How do you know he's well enough for that sort of thing?" Odo demanded to know.

"I don't, Constable. I only enough about Cardassians to take them apart, not put them back together again, but I can't see any other choice. Can you?" Kira had a stance with her fists on her hips.

"I have one..other idea. I'll need to borrow your quarters" Odo sighed, mimicking the humanoid expression of resignation.

Elim regretfully let himself come out of the beautiful sleep coma that the nurses had obligingly placed him in after Kira had returned with orders.

His leg even felt much better, one of them had managed to bring on board a bio-molecular regenerator that would cooperate with his genetics. It would not be stable enough to stand on safely yet he thought, but it would do.

He realized quickly upon trying to open his eyes that he had been blindfolded. He lifted his hands to touch the cloth.

"Stop." Major Kira's voice commanded through the darkness.

Elim smiled and lowered his hands.

"Major, I should think we hardly know each-other well enough for this sort of intimate game" He could smell her perfume, and with just enough light seeping in from under the cloth, his claustrophobia held in abeyance.

"So you do know this game..I wonder what else you know" Her voice seemed almost teasing, along with one finger trailing over the flank of his good leg. Which made him realize he was not wearing any clothes. And that someone had tampered with the environment settings again.

"I'm afraid I do not know much beyond my craft. My services are at your disposal. Would you like to discuss ordering a new outfit? It may be some time before my shop and I are recovered enough to be of use. Perhaps something in leather?" He kept his tone light, despite the slap of a womans' hand striking him across the face.

His jaw had NOT fully recovered either. The blow left this ears ringing, but not enough to trigger the device. A pity.

"Don't toy with me Cardassian. Are you a spy?" Kira's voice came across annoyed. He could scent some sort of incense in the air.

"Oh so that's the roles we're playing. You're the fierce and ravishing interrogator, and I'm to be the spy, subject to your deviant whims. Most excellent! My safe word is Tarkalean Brandy" Elim quipped.

The hand resumed its travels along his thigh and up to his stomach.

"It's been my experience that Cardassians are trained to withstand torture, but what of this line of questioning?" Kira's voice purred, her nails cutting lightly against his skin.

"Oh absolutely Major, it is our national past time! This is of course how every first date among my savage people ends. The women on Cardassia are terrifying, so you shall have to do your worst." Elim was wondering where the Bajoran was going with this. She was clearly not interested in him, nor he in her, but for the time it kept him from actual torture.

The hand traveled up to caress the ridges along his neck. Now where had the woman learned THAT trick? Perhaps his people had spent too much time educating the Bajorans.

After some time, the hand stopped. A moment passed. The fingers tapped against his shoulder absently in a gesture of impatience, indicating Kira was thinking.

"Something the matter, Major?" Elim inquired politely.

"I had hoped to not have to agree to his help, but so be it."

" There's a certain Gul outside waiting to talk to you. He agreed in return for the sake of _amicable relations_ with Bajor to assist me in identifying you and confirming your purpose here" Frustration was not hidden by the bitterness of her tone.

The hand moved, and Elim could sense by the changes in the air that her figure was moving towards the door.

"I'd rather not invite anyone to the party Major, at least not without some Tarkalean Brandy first!" He played for time.

If it was Dukat, he would certainly take malicious glee in his current state.

"Don't get up Mister Garak" Dukat's imperious voice halted him even as he began to rise from the surface of whatever he had been lying on.

"Why don't you tell this nice..lady, why you're really here". A cold hand clamped down on his shoulder causing him to stiffen.

"Interesting. He responds to your touch and yet not mine". Something about Kira's voice bothered him.

He could barely think, his mind racing to control his body and filter in the facts his senses could tell him, trying to figure out what it was that was nagging him.

"You're quite right..that IS interesting Major" the contempt in Dukats' voice unsettled Elim, but not as much as that cold hand suddenly moving up his shoulder along his neck ridges.

"SIR? What ever are you doing?" Elim protested, grabbing at the Gul's wrist and swinging his legs over the side of the platform.

Before he could snatch the blindfold from his eyes, Elim found Dukat grabbing him by the hair and shoving him against a wall. The stiff uniform rubbed uncomfortably against his bare skin. He still had one hand on the Gul's wrist, while the other was pinned between them. His shoulder ached from the jarring movement triggering the device in his skull.

Thankfully the Gul would assume his physical reaction earlier was due to the device in his head.

 _Wait. That's it._ The Gul WOULD have known about the device, and thought nothing of it. Not be puzzled. This entity was not Dukat. If it was not Dukat then..

The pieces fit into place; what was wrong with Kira's voice, why Dukat did not dismiss a physical reaction from his hated enemy. The voice: Kira's location had been identical to the Guls. The voice changed, without changing places. It was that damned Changeling trying to extract information.

One step ahead, he decided to take a gamble. _Mix in a dangerous truth with a well fitted lie._ The Changeling would trust him implicitly. Or at least stop this charade. He just needed to let go. Let go of his self control for one moment.

Elims' breath ran ragged as he let himself feel the strength of the distinctively male Cardassian hand gripping his hair. He struggled to free his other arm despite the ache in his shoulder. Dukats other hand closed about his throat, not enough to strangle, but enough to get his attention. The endorphins rushing through his body helped him forget that the body pressed against him was not only not his hated enemy Dukat, but simply the shape of a Cardassian worn by a shifter. He could allow himself to enjoy this.

"Sir, it was a misunderstanding. I only felt Cardassia could be better served if I..served you" Elim released Dukat's wrist to place his palm along the ridges of the Gul's neck.

Let the Changeling think he was attempting to seduce Dukat.

The hand about his throat loosened and tilted his chin upwards in an intimate gesture causing Elim to let out a soft moan.

"You really aren't a spy are you?" Dukats voice seemed almost soft, an aspect Elim did not think he'd ever heard before. Goodness this Changeling was thorough.

"Of course not Sir. Take me...home" Elim whispered, letting his voice go husky, and leaned upwards as if to embrace him with his mouth. That should cause the shifter to stop this nonsense.

He was correct. Odo stepped back releasing Garak and reverting back to his usual humanoid shape.

"You can take off the blindfold now Mister Garak" the constables usual grumpy voice sent a wave of relief through him, that he had to hide and instead show a stiffening panic.

Elim removed the blindfold, and blinked at the shifter as if in confusion.

"I had to corroborate your story. I see it is true that you ..annoyed..one of the captains into leaving you here. You've been exiled haven't you?" Odo accused.

" I don't understand" Elim continued to play dumb.

"You've been duped Mister Garak. I was Major Kira, and Gul Dukat the whole time. Not to worry your little secret is safe with me. I understand how the Cardassians view the importance of family, and how your own proclivities would be..dissuaded" It was almost amusing that Odo was trying to comfort him now that his 'deep dark secret' was out.

"I apologize for my deception. There are some fresh clothes for you on the table there. You may get dressed and go". The Constable let himself out.

Elim managed to hold his face in an expression of stunned disbelief all the way back to his quarters. The plasticast and crutch slowed him, but he was grateful to the courtesy since he was still not sure how stable his leg was even after that encounter.

It was not until he heard the door seal shut behind him that he began to laugh.


	5. A Touch of Adventure

Mornings on the promenade provided a fascinating breakfast experience. While Elim was not much of early bird, much of the crew gathered here over raktajinos to discuss their plans for the day. He made a mental note that the average citizen of Terok Nor, or perhaps he should now think of it as deep space 9, took about three days to acclimatise themselves to his presence. Meaning if they were already thoroughly entrenched in conversation on the way in, they did not bother to find a table out of earshot. Rarer now was the patron that switched tables upon noticing his presence.  
The constable made a polite point of glaring at him in suspicion no longer then anyone else. It was almost as if they were friends already.  
Speaking of friendship, it was time to begin expanding his network. Non Cardassians would be an interesting achievement. With star fleet personnel arriving daily he would love to find solid source of information.

The engineer, O'Brien, he admired greatly. The mans' skill was nearly unparalleled. Not to mention the mental discipline he employed whenever Elim was in his presence. The man hated Cardassians. Which was a shame really, he would have made an excellent one. No he would simply have to pick someone else. He finished off his plate and gathered up his tea heading back to his shop.

His shop was not recovering nearly as well as he hoped. Requisition requests had for the most part been delayed, forgotten or simply lost. He had yet to hear back about his request for compensation or assistance in relation to the damages that occurred during the withdrawal of his people from the station. He suspected that his request would be denied anyhow.  
Most of the materials in the shop had been damaged, charred or infused with unacceptable odors that no amount of runs through the replimat could cure. He was left with little usable materials. It was disappointing to be reduced to quilting. At least the blankets sold faster then he could make them and gave him the opportunity to improve his new skill set. A pittance really, it was a wonder that any tailor could remain in business.

He had enjoyed his haggling session with the Ferengi running the bar, in trade for the names of several contacts that owed him favors and would be willing to run merchandise between Cardassian borders and the station with few questions. The little man fronted Elim some funding to order in new fabrics. At a modest interest rate of course. Elim was undecided on whether to be pleased that it would be another week before they arrived, or dismayed, staving off boredom.

Over the next handful of days Elim collected information. Who came and went was a high impossible quest, but who stayed he kept records of. Just names and dimensions with a few other details, nothing unusual for a simple tailor.

Captain Cisco he dismissed almost immediately. The man was not planning to stay, and too much of a blunt instrument for other purposes.  
Lieutenant Dax had potential, dangerously so. As a joined trill of 8 lifetimes, several of them as a male, she had experience and open-mindedness in abundance. As a beautiful woman who was very much self aware, she would be able to perceive his personal proclivities easily. That he did not mind so much as what other secrets he possessed, held even more closely.  
Perhaps he could approach her slowly, a being over half a century old was a tempting challenge.  
An amusement perhaps, but hardly ideal.

The answer he was looking for did not come to him until later that afternoon, or rather pass in view of from where he was eating lunch.

Doctor Julian Bashir. A quick search through docking passenger manifests revealed the name. Odo kept such tidy records it seemed a shame if no one else ever read them. Public records detailed much of what his visual analysis confirmed. A brilliant young doctor with a number of impressive achievement s already under his belt. What the public records did not say that his keen eyes detected was why he was all the way out here.  
Genetically enhanced. Perhaps not him personally, that was unlikely, but his bloodline. Genius level IQ, family connection, not a hint of disgrace. The man could have had any posting he desired. He _wanted_ to be out here. The man fancied himself an adventurer.

He also apparently loved to hear himself talk.  
The young doctor was apparently fascinated by the remaining Cardassian and kept stealing less then subtle glances his direction. Elim stared back unabashedly every time their eyes met, then the doctor would report their interaction to his friends.  
Intelligent, young with a touch of naivety, curious. The man was a perfect mark.  
Time to give the doctor a touch of adventure.


	6. The Listener

"My dear doctor, I don't think the lieutenant is quite ready for settling down just yet". Elim found the doctors fascination with Dax most amusing. He could see the appeal himself. An evening spent counting someone's spots- unquestionably delightful. Unfortunately she had no thought or time to spare on Julians' crush.  
"What makes you say that mister Garak? Bashir continued to watch her across Quarks bar hopelessly.

"Only that she has a different companion to play racket ball with every month".  
"I should be happy to fulfill that position even for a week". Bashir mumbled glumly into his glass.  
Elim watched her traditional goodbye to her latest partner, wondering if said partner knew it was goodbye.

The following afternoon Garak packed away his sewing kit early and headed for the promenade.  
Jadzia and her new conquest were sitting at the bar chatting companionably. Something about his profile seemed familiar, if only he would just turn around.

Bashir took the seat beside him and uncovered his meal. Some sort of leafy concoction likely to be more healthy than palatable.  
"It astounds me how long certain individuals will put off visits to the infirmary". Bashir managed one bite is his salad before launching into a tirade about the health concerns involving something as simple as a headache. The doctor did love to show off his encyclopedic brain.

Garak had little interest in medicine, but enjoyed listening to his passionate friend, especially as his friend carefully watched his pronouns lest he divulge confidential client information.  
The last time Garak caught him slipping up he pointed it out with much amusement. He suggested that to counter such a mistake that the doctor should finish his train of thought by flipping pronouns.  
They discussed the psychology behind such a tactic. Bashir suggested it was painfully obvious that it was the first pronoun that was the correct one. Garak countered that if perhaps he purposely used the incorrect pronoun at least one extra time then the correct one that it would leave the listener too caught up on the detail of gender to use the information.

Bashir proposed he might just make such a slip on purpose to give Garak an afternoons' entertainment on trying to figure it out.

Garak listened politely waiting for his argument to wind down before offering a counter.  
"Surely the line between hypochon.."  
Bashir paused his fork midair waiting for Garak to finish and looked over at his companions face frozen in unpleasant surprise.  
"What? What is it?" He followed his gaze to lieutenant Dax and her friend as they were leaving.  
"Do you know him?" Bashir asked.  
"You could say that".  
"I'm sorry Doctor, you'll have to excuse me". Garak stood dropping his napkin on to the tray and hurried off.

Garak recognized the man Dax had left with. A contact of a contact of a friend of his, which meant he was tied up with the Obsidian Order. A spy. Having multiple spies on station was good for business, just.. not his. It made him replaceable. Perhaps he would do Julian a favor and have him removed.

The question was; How to get rid of a spy?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Elim closed the shop down for the night, heading through darkened passageways as the station transferred to night shift. It was soothing, walking along with only emergency lighting, humans and Bajorans alike both preferred the light settings much too high.  
His quarters were dimly lit, the fixtures left from his predecessor. He sat at the console at his desk. Scrambling his access point and rerouting it through several other terminals on the ship, he bypassed most of the security protocols like a technological ghost.  
The idea of the headache he would give Odo, should he gain even a whiff of this nights activities, made him smile.  
Everything is traceable. Given proper access and clearance, but there were still layers of Cardassian security that had not yet been peeled away. His plan was beginning to unfold as he delved through the secure and personal files for every star fleet member on board.

Sleep was a long time coming. With the spy on board and foremost in his thoughts, it was difficult to relax. What did not help matters was the key reason that spurred him into action in the first place. The man was a Listener. Not just excellent ears, his was a race of Listeners. If one has ever experienced the strange phenomena of a complete stranger telling you their lives story, or go into disgusting detail about a medical issue, all the while you're just waiting on the next turbo lift or standing in line for the replimat, you've experienced a small fraction of their daily existence. They can't help what they are, people just tell them things. They made excellent spies.

Elim tossed and turned.

He remembered his first encounter with a Listener back in training. They had been separated into groups based on security clearance and began studying various interrogation techniques along side how to resist them. The Listener was on the payroll for the obsidian order, standing in front of the class and centering each student out.  
Elim recalled his turn talking to the listener. Bits of it anyways. For a well trained memory it was disturbingly vivid and something he would rather forget. Staring into his eyes. Exclaiming how extraordinarily blue they were. It would have been far more embarrassing had his colleagues caught on that his wax poetic was not an attempt to divert his brain from talking about important things.

Those blue eyes still haunted him.

Later in his training, he was summoned to the trainer quarters. It was possible that clandestine meetings occurred even in the training halls of the obsidian order, perhaps even likely. That did not lessen the danger of catching a piece of the wrong conversation or surprising the wrong operative.

"Every one has their secrets Elim". The Listener waived him into his room.  
"Some are more dangerous then others" Elim countered, hoping to play through a hand with no more than a bluff.  
"Of course. Which is why I was hoping we could be friends".

The listener poured Kanar from a tall dark glass bottle into two glasses.  
"A listener does not have many friends, especially working here. A man would have to be on his guard every minute in my presence when his profession is secrets" He handed Elim a glass.  
Poison had already been covered extensively. Elim lifted the glass, gently sloshing it and watching for residue, pretending to inhale and appreciate its aroma. It was not likely that the instructor was going to kill him. Not after practically announcing him,saying his name while his door was still open. No operative would be _that_ sloppy.

He took a sip.

"Surely you did not bring me here just to share a drink sir?" It really was difficult to keep his internal monologue quiet.  
The listener sat on a small couch and beckoned Elim to sit. The lighting levels may have been suited for his people, but the furniture was not. It was simply too cozy.  
"I will share with you a secret young Elim. You are not the first trainee I have invited to my quarters over the years I have taught here." The Listener drank appreciatively from his glass, letting his eyes slowly gaze over the cardassians body.

"Oh"?

"Cardassia has no church but family, no religion other than duty".  
He lifted his drink in a toast.  
"We are the sinners that keep Cardassia strong, Elim. For everyone else, Cardassia is a noble people, we value such ideas like inexorable justice, and that a Cardassian never harms another Cardassian" The Listener snorted in contempt.

"I had no idea you were such a ..patriot". Elim gulped hurriedly to avoid speaking further. His hands fixed rigidly around the now empty glass. It felt like heresy. True, his were a cruel and proud people. Truer still that his duty called that he be implacable against gentler things such as mercy or honor.

The Listeners hand closed around his to lift and refill his glass. They were warm, with hidden strength.

There were things to be said for seducing your interrogator. Or keeping your mouth occupied with other things, when in the presence of a Listener. Elim learned much from the man before his training had been completed.


End file.
